Dora smiled.

Miriam stared at us, face so devoid of expression she could have been studying moss. When she spoke, it was to Ryan.

“I told you my mother-in law is unwel . Why are you bothering her?”

“I’m fin—” Dora started to speak.

Miriam cut her off.

“She’s eighty-four and has just lost her son.”

Dora made atsk sound.

As before, Ryan gave Miriam silence, waited for her to fil it. This time she didn’t.

Dora did.

“It’s al right. We were having a nice discussion.” Dora flapped a blue-veined hand.

“What are you discussing?” Miriam’s gaze stayed on Ryan as though Dora hadn’t spoken.

“Euripides,” Ryan said.

“Is that supposed to be humorous, Detective?”

“Yossi Lerner.”

I watched Miriam careful y. If I expected a reaction, there was none.

“Who’s Yossi Lerner?”

“A friend of your husband’s.”

“I don’t know him.”

“A school friend.”

“That would be before my time.”

I looked at Dora. The old woman’s gaze had gone fuzzy, as though she were viewing memories outside the room.

“Why are you asking about this man? This Yossi Lerner?” Miriam pul ed off her gloves.

“His name came up.”

“In your investigation?” The violet eyes showed the slightest surprise.

“Yes.”

“In what context?”

Outside, I heard thebeep beep of a car alarm. Dora didn’t stir.

Ryan looked at me. I nodded.

Ryan told Miriam about Kessler and his photo.

Miriam’s face registered nothing as she listened. It was impossible to guess her interest or emotions.

“Is there a link between this skeleton and my husband’s death?”

“Straight or sugar-coated?”

“Straight.”

Ryan raised digits as he ticked off points.

“A man is murdered. A guy produces a photo, claims the skeleton in that photo is the reason for the shooting. That guy is now missing.” Ryan’s pinky joined the others.

“There’s evidence the skeleton in the photo came from Masada.”

Thumb.

“The victim dealt in Israeli antiquities.”

Ryan started over with his index finger.

“The skeleton was once in the possession of one Yossi Lerner. The victim was once pals with one Yossi Lerner.”

“The other was a priest.”

We al turned to Dora.

She spoke to the air.

“The other boy was a priest,” she repeated. “But he was later. Or was he?”

“What other boy?” I asked gently.

“Avram had two friends. Yossi, and then later this other boy.” Dora tapped a fist to her chin. “He was a priest. He surely was.” Miriam crossed to her mother-in-law, but did not reach out to her.

I was reminded of the scene in the morgue family room. The women had been side by side but distant. They had not touched. They had not embraced.

The younger had not shared her strength with the older. The older had not sought comfort from the younger.

“They were very close,” Dora went on.

“Your son and his friends?” I encouraged.

Dora smiled the first smile I’d seen on her face. “Such inquisitive minds. Always reading. Always questioning. Arguing. Al night, some times.”